


All You Can Play

by matchstick_dolly



Series: Matches After Midnight [6]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Chloe KNOWS, Coitus Interruptus, Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Episode Related, Episode: s03e04 What Would Lucifer Do?, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fuckruary 2020 (Lucifer TV), Future Fic, Humor, Lexy gains pathos in chapter two, Love in the time of COVID, Missing Scene, POV Chloe, POV Lexy, POV Lucifer, Post-Season/Series 05, Pre-Relationship, Public Sex, Season/Series 03, Sexual Content, Time Skips, Yoga, ball pit interruptus, dan knows, this took a turn, this will not arouse, written before 5B aired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:54:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22682032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_dolly/pseuds/matchstick_dolly
Summary: Lucifer is a fulfiller of desires, but maybe agreeing to have sex in the ball pit of Chuck E. Cheese was a mistake.Perhaps it shouldn't surprise him at all when his romp in the restaurant comes back to haunt him.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Lucifer Morningstar/Lexy
Series: Matches After Midnight [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620778
Comments: 59
Kudos: 126





	1. On Trying Everything Once

**Author's Note:**

> For [Fuckruary 2020](https://freakyfebruary.tumblr.com)'s "Public Sex" prompt. **I cannot express how thoroughly explicit this comedy is. Enter at your own risk.**
> 
> By the way, "All You Can Play" is currently Chuck E. Cheese's slogan. Equally cursed and blessed.
> 
> Thank you to Miri for the pre-read!

Lexy, the judge's ex-wife-in-the-making, didn't merely want to have sex in the ball pit of a Chuck E. Cheese. She wanted to have sex in the ball pit of the Chuck E. Cheese off Florence and Alameda, a rundown pocket of Los Angeles wedged between industrial parks that was best known for the L.A. riots. Lucifer, fulfiller of desires that he was, willingly if a little reluctantly pulled into the sprawling minimall parking lot and turned right, away from the Party City, Big 5 Sporting Goods, and Dollar Tree, and toward the dismal corner where a lone Chuck E. Cheese stood empty for the night. It was a thing of Hell loops, if he ever saw one.

Part of him still couldn't believe he'd called in favors for this—plate of warm mayonnaise and all that—but he could use the distraction, and Lexy _was_ a yoga instructor. The last time he was with someone this flexible, he'd been backstage at a Cirque du Soleil performance. That chap had literally blown himself while Lucifer took his prostate to greater heights than the high wire act ever could.

He parked the Corvette and killed the engine before turning sideways in the driver's seat. "Lexy, _darling_ ," he began, skimming a finger up the side of her neck, "are you _certain_ you wouldn't desire something a little more"— _sanitary_?—"conventional? I am willing to take you anywhere, physiologically _and_ geographically." 

Lexy beamed at him and shoved open her door. "Mm, when you're done with my pussy," she moaned, "you can take my _ass_ in the ball pit." 

"Well, that-that wasn't exactly what I meant." Lucifer frowned, conflicted. 

He'd taken many a hindquarter in what might be referred to as a ball pit, but this was entirely different. He turned a thousand-yard stare onto the cartoon mouse that was giving a thumbs up above the business' red-framed double doors. Well. First time for everything, he thought, and climbed out of the Corvette. Anyway, you never knew when you might discover a dormant kink lurking in the dirty recesses of your soul. He couldn't have foreseen his love of wrapping scrawny men up in cling film if he hadn't have tried it. He'd been so skeptical.

As agreed upon, the poor sap who managed this Chuck E. Cheese had left the keys taped to the underside of the purple-and-red awning in exchange for the cost of a full professional cleaning, replacement of any ruined items, and two months' supply of Lucifer's own homegrow. With Lexy bouncing on her toes beside him, Lucifer reached up, snagged the keys, and unlocked the double doors. Inside, she flicked the nearest light switch.

Oh, it was so much worse than he'd imagined it would be. He looked around, slack-jawed, wondering if his cock had finally met its match. Garish, turquoise-and-red booths framed a cluttered sea of particolored arcade games, a play area (ball pit included), and a central stage with a wilted animatronic mouse. Everything smelled of grease, and there was a general vibe that screamed "place where dreams go to die."

He eyed his companion as she roamed the establishment excitedly, her hands trailing over dormant gaming machines. She was such a lovely young woman to be so terribly odd, but then looks were frequently deceiving when it came to sexual proclivities. Floral sundress swaying against her muscular thighs, she stopped before a kiosk where cheap toys, puzzles, and corn syrup candies hung on the wall behind the counter. Not exactly the kinds of toys he liked to see hanging on a wall when he was about to shag someone senseless. It was all very childish, and Lucifer's skin crawled for a multitude of reasons.

"Are you a little, darling?" he asked, referring to a kink that was so extraordinarily not to his personal tastes that he tended to have to find others who could fulfill that desire in his stead. Other than hearing his Father's name invoked during orgasm, being called "Daddy" was literally the worst thing he could imagine anyone wanting to call him in the bedroom—or in Chuck E. Cheese, as it were. 

"Am I a little what?" 

Well, that was a no, then. What on earth did she get out of this? 

"Don't you just _love_ the atmosphere?" Lexy cooed, as if she had heard his internal turmoil and thought to take pity on him. "It's _so_ kitsch." 

He joined her in front of the kiosk. "That is one possible word for it, yes." 

"My sister and I spent all our afternoons here when we were kids." She pointed to a particularly cross-eyed stuffed dog. "I think we had that one. We called him Snoopy."

He looked nothing like Snoopy.

"And this...makes you want to have sex here because...?" 

He immediately cursed himself for asking. Honestly, sometimes he wished people would tell him just a few _less_ secrets. And they probably would if he could remember to stop being ridiculously charming any time his middle leg became part of the equation. He could be as rude as the best of them if there wasn't anyone he was hoping to bed or, well, ball pit.

"The colors here kinda remind me of the bedroom Hannah and I shared." She flashed him a grin, and he returned it uncertainly. "Nineties kids, you know? It's all _so_ nineties."

"Right..."

"And then when we grew out of this place, we had this running competition," Lexy sighed. She shook her head. "Who could get boys into our bedroom—past our super strict parents—to do the craziest things first."

" _Oh_ ," Lucifer said, relief washing over him. "Sibling rivalry! Now, _that_ I understand."

"Yeah. Hannah did everything first." Lexy pouted. "First kiss, first _French_ kiss, first BJ, you name it."

"So _you_ desire to return to a beloved place from your childhood and sully it before she can." Lucifer shook his head, his grin soft and mesmerized. "Gosh, you humans really _don't_ change, do you?"

Her brows furrowed as she looked at him. "Huh?"

Lucifer waved a hand, changing the topic. "Well, what are we standing about for? Let's get down to it, shall we?" He grabbed her round the waist and pulled her to him.

Lexy squealed in pleasure as his mouth fell to hers. This was not a tender desire, and they kissed roughly as he pushed her back into the glass kiosk while trying not to think about how many grubby hands had been on it today alone. His trouser snake was just beginning to stiffen when she drew away from his tongue with a gasp. He stared at her, foggy and bewildered.

"Let's turn everything on!"

"Will that..." Lucifer squinted an eye. "Will that turn _you_ on?"

" _Oh, yeah._ "

"Right... Well, why not?" He gave her plump ass a squeeze. "One moment."

Releasing her, he turned and began to walk through the arcade, erection already flagging. He didn't bother with switches or outlets as he brought gaming machines with absurd names like Jumpin' Fantasy, Chameleon Paradize, and Dog Pounder to life. At least _this_ hadn't been taken from him, unlike his devil face. Only the games that utilized more modern electronics refused to submit to his will, and he left them, figuring Lexy wouldn't care _that_ much if Guitar Hero and Fruit Ninja weren't running.

When he was done making his rounds, the arcade was a cacophonous mess of bells, horns, whistles, irritating tunes, and recorded sayings that played on repeat. Visually, the room now vomited colorful strobe lighting beneath the already unflattering fluorescents. It reminded him of the slots in Vegas, just with more germs and questionable stains in the carpet—and nowhere near enough alcohol or drugs.

Lucifer returned to Lexy, an eyebrow quirked.

"What about Chuck?" she asked, one finger plucking at his belt.

"Chuck?"

"Yeah," she said, jerking her chin toward the stage at the back of the business. "The mouse."

"You want the robot."

"He's kinda key to the whole fantasy."

Of course it was.

Lucifer sighed deeply. "All right." 

Focusing at a distance was slightly more difficult, but a few seconds later Chuck E. Cheese, the mouse, woke up jerkily. Pouring forth from the spastic animatronics was some vaguely Bee Gees-like rip-off about a dancing cat that made Lucifer realize every Hell loop should have a Chuck E. Cheese rotation.

"How did you _do_ that?" Lexy asked, brown eyes wide.

"Turning things on is what I do," he chuckled, pulling her to him once more.

"Yeah, but how?" she insisted.

"Well, I'm the Devil, aren't I? Comes with the territory."

"Okay," Lexy said, pushing at his suit jacket. "You can keep your secrets."

Nobody ever believed him.

Together, they slipped his jacket off his shoulders. With a slight grimace, he draped it over a nearby table. Presumably those were wiped down at least periodically? Off came his waistcoat next, and then he spent some time palming and jiggling Lexy's breasts through the thin cotton of her sundress. She'd not bothered with a bra, and he was graced with glorious handfuls that almost distracted him from the audiovisual cancer surrounding them.

"You think anybody can see us?" Lexy asked, glancing toward the many open glass windows to the building.

Lucifer looked with her. It was indeed wide open, but there was nothing and no one around them. Still, fantasies were fantasies, and reality could be ignored more often than not for their sake. "Someone could _definitely_ see us," he said. Which was true. It was just very unlikely.

"I've got a little surprise for you," Lexy said, and bit her bottom lip coyly.

"Oh?" Lucifer chuckled, intrigued and nervous. He wasn't sure he could take many surprises in this establishment.

"Mm-hmm." Lexy bent and grabbed the hem of her sundress and yanked it up, pulling it off herself in one athletic go. 

She was knickerless beneath and had shaved all her pubic hair, except for a heart that lay atop her mons. It was dyed an outrageous pink, and he grinned, loving it. _All_ of him loved it. A lot.

"Yum," he said, and stalked forward.

Lexy quirked her brows. "You wanna taste?"

"Yes, please." His eyes darted around, scouting for clean surfaces and finding them all suspect.

But Lexy caught him off guard by turning around and showing her perky bum. She bent, placing her hands down onto the filthy floor, and for a split second, Lucifer was met with an eyeful of yoga instructor bits until she sucked in a deep breath and did a handstand. She tipped her feet back toward her head in a handstand scorpion pose, her core muscles twitching.

"Bloody hell," he laughed, and then she spread her legs. "Mine eyes have seen the glory." 

The pink heart widened as her muscles stretched. She gleamed wetly beneath the fluorescents, proving she really was getting off to all this nonsense. _Humans_. They could be so weird and delightful.

Lucifer stepped closer, as if in a trance, and grabbed where her hips met her thighs to take some of her weight and help stabilize her. Then he buried his face between her legs and performed the art of yogalingus. At least he'd been _here_ before.

He moaned against her clit, pink hair tickling at his bottom lip, as an overly cheery, male voice emitted from one of the numerous gaming machines: "Studies have shown that _play_ and other forms of _fun_ actually _improve_ brain function, alleviate stress, and generally boost performance!"

Lexy moaned incongruously, "Oh, yeah, just like that."

As Lucifer lapped at one hundred percent pure Lexy, he couldn't help but think this was the most confusing erection he had ever had, which was truly something. Below him, Lexy suddenly grunted and shifted to one arm, hips still gyrating against his face. He glanced down at her and was shocked to see her beet-red face. But then she grabbed hold of one of his knees to balance herself and moved her hand up until she was gripping him through his trousers, and he couldn't quite care what color her face was. How was it even possible that she could give a decent handjob this way?

"You're bloody _amazing_ ," he choked out as gopher heads popped up and down from a nearby off-brand Whac-A-Mole.

When Lexy came several minutes later, it was sudden and bordered on violent, which was part of the fun where the judge's wife was concerned. Her legs clamped so tightly around his head that Lucifer suspected mere mortals might need to check for neck and spine injuries in the aftermath. She held to him, grinding into his face, until she was spent. He loved every second.

"You can let me go," she said a moment later, dropping her hand from the surface of his trousers. He did, and she let her legs fall farther behind her head so that she performed a slow backflip and faced him once again. "Come on," she said, apparently not the least bit tired, and grabbed his hand with one of her dirty ones before he could stop her. "I want you to fuck me on the Circus Ball Drop."

He was going to have to replace everything in this Dadforsaken place.

The Circus Ball Drop had, at best, a tiny ledge for either of them to lean against, but first he shrugged out of the rest of his clothes—though he left his dress socks on—and carefully rolled a condom onto himself with his one clean hand. In the time it took him to do all this, he wasn't quite as hard again. He turned in time to see Lexy park her rear on the gaming machine's ledge and lean back against the Plexiglas. She straightened her legs into a line, lifted them high into the air, and tucked them back behind her head, arms, and shoulders, until she was in the almond-like shape of the sleeping yogi pose. It put her entire fanny on display.

So began the establishment-wide fuck fest. They moved from Circus Ball Drop to Down the Clown, did a little standing doggy against the support bars of Dance Dance Revolution, and thoroughly explored anatomy atop an arcade version of Operation. Things turned frantic as they both neared climax, and they settled for folded missionary on a table. When Lexy came again, bucking against him like a bronco, he followed shortly after to some horribly punk-inspired tune that was issuing from the life-sized mouse. He was a proud Devil, but it was not his proudest moment.

Heaving, Lucifer leaned over Lexy and groaned against her collarbone. He hadn't felt like this since he'd accidentally dropped acid when the detective had a Tribe Night at Lux. In fact, the acid trip had been less bizarre.

They lay still and quiet for a moment in the room that was anything but. He huffed a laugh as Lexy worked his temporarily softened cock with Kegel muscles that could raise the dead. Even wilted beneath him, she squeezed him rhythmically until he was back in business. He backed up, grinning, and slid away from her body. Disposing of the spent condom, he soon replaced it with another and turned, only to see her leaning against the netting to the ball pit.

He needed a drink.

"Have you considered how many filthy ankle-biters have spread their germs in this?" he asked, warily eyeing rainbow-colored balls.

Lexy shrugged. "I never get sick." She poked out her bottom lip. "Do you not want to do this?"

Bollocks. No one really knew how _hard_ it was being built for desire. How he wanted and wanted, to please and be pleased. But sometimes he caught himself, as if in a bird's eye view, and really wondered if, well, things like fucking in a Chuck E. Cheese were what he was searching for. Linda would tell him no, he thought, but Linda wasn't here, and he had a rager.

"This is your darkest desire?" he asked again. Lexy nodded readily. "Well, then..." He sighed. "Hop in, I suppose."

She took it quite literally as she dove, breasts first, into the ball pit with a jubilant laugh. Lucifer followed her much more sedately, his mouth falling open in horror as colorful, smooth plastic balls parted and rolled over the fine hairs of his legs. Oh. Oh, no. That one was sticky. _Why_ was it sticky? He grabbed his cock and gave it a few vicious jerks to keep it from wilting under pressure.

Oblivious to his crisis, Lexy buried her arms deep into the balls and pulled a cow pose, dipping her middle while arching her chest and pelvis. No wonder the judge was exhausted. Lucifer's brows furrowed as he took in her wonderfully messy state—some of it left over from before, much of it not. "Gosh, you really _are_ into this."

"Oh, yeah, I am." She wiggled her hips. "How many gold tickets do I earn for being a good girl?"

"I beg your pardon?"

She whined a little, her fantasy interrupted by his ignorance. "You get tickets when you win the games."

"Oh. Of course. Um, as many as you want." He gave himself another savage pump. "Do you want me to fuck you now, darling?" He feared she was losing her chance.

Lexy backed up, and he inched forward, and, well, then he was balls deep in a ball pit. He held her hips for dear life, cringing as plastic rolled over his knuckles and clicked across his ring. Lexy rode him like mad, her body undulating in the plastic quagmire.

"Do you wanna fuck my ass?" she asked several minutes in.

"I— No, no, that's quite all right."

She shrugged and kept going, and it was enough, more than enough, which even the Devil perhaps felt a little ashamed by. He was close, so close, and so was she, and—

"I think I'm gonna squirt."

Lucifer froze and held her hips in a vise-grip. " _Absolutely not_."

She whimpered.

"No," he whispered, as if whispering might keep it from happening. "Do not."

She panted, her legs trembling. "But—"

" _No_." He patted her lower back somewhat awkwardly. "I'll get you off in the Corvette, darling." Wouldn't be the first time he'd had it detailed for such things. Lexy sighed but didn't protest. "Just—hard limit on squirting in the ball pit."

The moment passed, and Lucifer carefully extricated his nearly limp cock from Lexy as if she were a ticking bomb. Women usually were where ejaculation was concerned.

They stood before each other outside the ball pit, her with her pink heart, him with his dress socks and half-used condom in hand. "Right, sorry about that," he said. "I'll make it up to you."

Lexy smiled at him broadly. "Oh, no, there's, like, nothing to make up."

Lucifer nodded despite his confusion. "You got enough?" He scratched idly at his chest, then looked down at himself, horrified. He wanted to bathe in boiling water.

"Really," she said, touching his arm with one of her disgusting floor hands, "this was still the best night of my life."

A companionable silence fell between them as they gathered their clothes, then parted ways to clean up in the horrible facilities and re-dress. Lucifer was first out and walked around the Chuck E. Cheese, turning off the games and the nightmarish, animatronic mouse. Night had fallen outside the restaurant—if it could even be called that—and the still silence after so much noise and movement was deeply unnerving. 

He pulled his mobile from his jacket pocket while he waited for Lexy to finish up in the bathroom. Maybe he'd take her back to Lux... They could have a shower and continue with their fun in a much cleaner environment. Figuratively, he supposed it could be as dirty as she liked. He'd lay down a few towels, just in case.

Lucifer frowned down at his phone. Seven missed calls from Miss Lopez? Alarmed, he punched at the notification and listened to the latest of the voicemails she'd left. 

" _Pick up_! There's been a shooting at Firehawk Ranch!" Ella yelled breathlessly in the recording. "All I know is there's an officer down. I'm on my way there now. I'll let you know when I find out more. Call me when you get this."

For a few breaths, Lucifer merely stood still, too shocked to move. Why wasn't he with the detective? Why was he _here_?

"Lexy!" he shouted, the panic in his voice coming out far angrier than intended. "Time to go!"

She jogged out of the bathroom a minute later, her flip-flops smacking. "Is something wrong?"

"I shouldn't be here," he said, turning away from all the games and trusting her to follow. "I've ordered you an Uber."

"An Uber? I thought we were having a good time. I thought—"

Lucifer turned and kissed her quiet. "It was memorable, I assure you, but I've got to go."

He waited until her ride pulled up and she was safely ensconced in the black Mazda. Smiling softly, she held up a hand in farewell. As he fell behind the wheel of the Corvette, he returned the gesture, offering a more curt karate chop than heartfelt adieu. The engine roared to life, and the tires squealed through the minimall's parking lot. It took everything in him not to fly.


	2. Dirty Little Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm as surprised as you are that there's a second chapter (much less a third being written), but covid-19 blessed us by shutting down a bunch of Chuck E. Cheese restaurants, so this obviously was required. Don't hate the player, hate the game, and by the game, I mean unchecked capitalism.

_In the Year of Our Lord 2020..._

Morning yoga class finished, Lexy showered in the studio's facilities and donned a blue sundress. She spun before a bamboo-framed mirror, feeling energized after helping others realign their chakras. Yoga was her calling, and such a cleansing experience in the midst of the super stressful wedding planning she was doing. If anything, planning a formal wedding was _harder_ the second time around. 

She waved goodbye to another teacher as she passed him in the hall on her way out of the studio. At the reception desk, Carol, who owned Lotus Studio and managed the books, looked up beneath her shaggy brown curls and sighed. "Lexy, can you put your mask on?"

"Huh?"

"Your mask." Carol pointed to the purple, company-branded cloth covering her own face. "There's a pandemic. Still."

"Oh, yeah!" Twisting toward her purse, Lexy dug inside a pocket for the crumpled Dolce & Gabbana face mask she'd been wearing for weeks. She smiled briefly at Carol before hooking the elastic bands around her ears. "There we go!" she said, voice now slightly muffled.

"It's supposed to go over your nose."

"What?"

Carol rubbed her brow. "Never mind. We'll see you on Friday, Lexy. Have a good day off."

Later, while Lexy sped her Porsche down the sun-baked freeway, she checked her phone notifications. There were twenty new messages from David, the wedding planner—questions about card stock and seating arrangements and cakes, and, honestly, what was the point of wedding planners if you had to make all these decisions for yourself, anyways? She tossed her phone onto the passenger's seat and tried, and failed, not to think about anything. This wedding was seriously messing with the flow of her qi.

She loved Quincy—she _did_ —but his idea of a good time and her idea of a good time were a little different. The problem was she was an Aries and Quincy was a Capricorn pushing sixty. He was old-fashioned, and mostly she liked that about him, but he wanted a traditional, stuffy wedding, while a low-key handfasting and a party were more her speed. But if there was one thing Lexy's first marriage had taught her, it was that good relationships required compromise, and so Quincy was getting his old school wedding, and she was getting her month-long European honeymoon. 

There were going to be hundreds of guests at the wedding: Quincy's banking colleagues, his friends from the yacht club, his _family_ , who definitely wouldn't get along with _her_ family. Lexy cringed. Quincy's daughter Megan, who was two years younger than Lexy herself, was turning out to be a bridesmaid from hell. And Quincy's ex-wife, who Lexy _had_ to be nice to for the sake of her soon-to-be stepson, liked passive aggressive Facebook drama, and it was all just a _lot_. She was _beyond_ ready for the wedding to be over. Everything would be fine once it was just Quincy and her. She was sure of it.

Lexy's cell phone rang, jarring her from her thoughts. Another driver honked aggressively as she leaned over to retrieve her phone. Ignoring them, she glanced at the caller ID and scrunched her nose—David again. She tossed the phone back as if she'd found the wrong fish at the end of a hook.

Fingers tightening on the steering wheel, Lexy knew she needed a break. Luckily, she knew just where to go for it.

* * *

The Chuck E. Cheese off Florence and Alameda was Lexy's favorite, though she'd been to others. She knew people didn't understand her affection for the place, but the truth was it reminded her of when all had been right in her world. It was loud and bright and greasy, and filled with nineties vibes, and it brought her to a state of joyful zen more than yoga ever had or could. Most importantly, it was where she went to remember her sister Hannah. 

Growing up, they'd never gotten along. They'd fought over everything in their cramped, teal bedroom: the lights, what boy band posters to pin to the wall, who got to use the transparent phone with its particolored insides. It hadn't helped that they'd only been a year apart, with Hannah being the smarter, prettier, and more socially adept between them. That had seemed unfair; younger siblings were supposed to look up to you, not be _better_ than you. But Hannah had always been better, with her straight A's and straight teeth, and all the boys who wanted to kiss her. Lexy had been the one running to keep up. Even after all this time, her frustration over it blocked her anahata energy.

The only place they'd ever enjoyed each other's company was Chuck E. Cheese, which they'd frequented during their mother's evening shifts as a nurse. Sometimes they'd competed with each other, but mostly it had been the Hopper sisters against all the other snot-nosed kids. But then they'd outgrown Chuck E. Cheese, and a lot of things had gone south, fast. The rivalry became personal again, and vicious. They stopped fighting over posters and started fighting over boys. It had escalated, right under their busy parents' noses, until finally Lexy did the unthinkable.

"I slept with Mason," she'd told her baby sister. Because she'd wanted to win the argument they were having at the time, an argument that now, twelve years later, Lexy couldn't even remember.

She'd delighted in Hannah's pain, even as it was based on a lie. Mason had loved her sister, which was part of what had burned. He'd been _Lexy's_ first kiss. He wasn't supposed to fall for Hannah instead. 

The lie was poisonous, but she'd held to it until it felt real, or at least until the hatred was. Until they couldn't stand to be around each other and took unspoken turns sharing their limited space, tolerating each other's presence only in sleep.

And then one day Lexy had gone home after an evening of avoiding her sister, only to find cop cars and emergency vehicles in the driveway. Her father sitting on the front steps, staring at nothing. Her mother sobbing on the phone. Sixteen-year-old girls aren't supposed to slip in showers and crack open their heads, but sometimes they do. And sometimes no one is home.

Lexy couldn't remember what her last words to Hannah were, but she knew they couldn't have been good. Mostly, she tried not to think about it. She liked to pretend Hannah was alive, all grown up and traveling somewhere; married, maybe; successful, obviously. Someone still worth competing against. Lexy pretended she was the sister who'd stayed in L.A., and filled her life with goodness, or tried to, as best she knew how. 

But when she longed for simpler times, she went to Chuck E. Cheese. Now, she drove through connecting parking lots and turned toward the end of the shopping plaza. It was hard not to feel a little rush whenever she saw the detached building, with its red-framed doors and vibrant, purple awning. After all, she didn't just have memories from the distant past here anymore. She certainly hadn't forgotten Lucifer Morningstar.

She still wondered why he'd never returned her calls after their amazing night, but she didn't take it too personally. He was the kind of man you called for a good time. Not relationship material, really, and too young for her anyways. 

The Chuck E. Cheese looked closed, the inside bathed in shadow. Sighing, she parked in the empty lot and cut the Porsche's engine. Maybe it wasn't open to customers yet. Who could keep up with all the crazy lockdown business? Stuff was always closing and reopening, and there was so much drama and so little to look forward to. She was still mad about _¡Diablo!_ ending, though she guessed that didn't have much to do with the corona.

Lexy climbed out of her car and went to the double doors of the Chuck E. Cheese. Cupping her hands, she pressed her nose to the glass and peered inside at the dark arcade units and the distant stage with its sleeping Chuck. Lacking anything better to do, she walked to the nearby window to give the place one last forlorn look. 

It was there she caught sight of the ball pit. Her lips quirked with a smile, only to soon tilt into a worried frown. It was difficult to see, but if she squinted, she could just make out a scrawny, jeaned leg sticking up from the colorful pit. The sole of a black-and-white Converse sneaker was twisted at an unnatural angle. She stared at the foot, waiting for movement that never came.

"Oh my God," Lexy gasped, stumbling away from the glass. 

* * *

Chloe was in a good mood as she pulled into her parking spot at the precinct. It was becoming a habit, to be honest. The world was a mess, but her own life was settling into something wonderful. She was surrounded by friends and family she never could have imagined for herself, people who had proven themselves when the going got tough. And at night, she found herself in the company of the Devil. 

Said Devil was waiting for her, leaning against the side of his Corvette, blue-suited ankles crossed. They'd left her apartment at the same time, but he had a penchant for breaking speeding laws. An argument she'd lost long ago. 

"Good _morning_ , Detective," Lucifer said, flashing a Cheshire grin as she closed her car door and walked to him. It was routine now, this teasing about their clandestine relationship, and it set her heart to drumming.

"Morning, Lucifer." She was thankful the black cotton mask on her face hid her dopey grin. Reaching behind her, she pulled a second mask from her back pocket and held it out to him.

Lucifer sighed. "Must I?"

"Yep, just like every other morning we come to work. You thought I'd forgotten?"

"I was hoping."

She rolled her eyes. "We want to set a good example."

"No, _you_ want to set a good example. I want easy access to—"

She shoved the cloth onto his face, enjoying the warmth of his breath on her fingers as he huffed a laugh. When he was properly masked, she smiled at him, knowing he could see it in her eyes, just as she could see it in his.

They fell into lockstep as they entered the precinct. Lucifer called out hellos while they passed through the neighboring divisions. He made people feel seen and heard in a way Chloe never quite knew how to do unless she was working a case and hoped to get something out of the interaction. It was especially hard now, with the tension of the pandemic and understandable public unrest looming over them. They washed and sanitized obsessively, feeling wary of every cough or fever, and when no one thought you were paying attention, they'd stare and speculate about whose _side_ you were on. Chloe kept her head down and focused on work, but it helped that Lucifer navigated the social quagmire with typical ease. Plagues and revolution weren't novel concepts to the Devil.

At her desk, Chloe booted up her computer and looked at the stack of papers in her letter tray. She drew the recently-solved Moore case to herself. 

"You know we don't have a case today," she warned. "It's gonna be slow."

"And you know I help with paperwork now." 

That was true. Sometimes she wished it wasn't. "No offense, but I don't think I want you helping me close this one out, considering what you wrote on the McKinney case."

"I was being concise."

"Yeah, well, 'He's dead, R.I.P.' doesn't really cut it." She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "Maybe you should go see if Dan could use some help."

Lucifer's chair squeaked in protest as he kicked his feet up on the corner of her desk, making it clear he wasn't going anywhere. "What I'm hearing is you'll be able to take a long lunch." His brows jumped suggestively.

"No long lunch for you two." 

Chloe startled as Lieutenant Choi rounded the glass partition near her desk and held a case file toward her. The potbellied lieutenant paused for a moment, brown eyes glancing between her and Lucifer long enough to make Chloe squirm. "So," he finally said, "there's a body over on South Alameda. You're not gonna believe where." He shook the file folder enticingly.

Taking the folder and opening it, Chloe scanned the case summary before snorting. " _Really_?" It felt like a practical joke.

"Well don't leave me in suspense," Lucifer whined. "Who's popped their clogs this time?"

"Oh, it's not who," she answered, opening the file toward him. "It's _where_."

"It's like a punchline," Choi agreed. "Poor guy. Anyway, Lopez is already down there with Forensics."

Lucifer's feet dropped to the floor at the same time he snatched the case file from Chloe's hands. "No," he said, shoving it toward the lieutenant. "No, absolutely not."

"Lucifer!"

"I'm afraid the Detective's far too busy for this one."

"That so?" Choi replied dryly.

"Nope," Chloe said in a rush, snatching the case file back before Choi could take it. "Not too busy. I'm wrapping up the Moore case now, so I'm happy to see to this one, sir."

"That's what I wanted to hear, Decker." Choi patted the glass wall as he turned. "Good luck, you two—not that you need it."

Sitting up straighter at the praise, Chloe smiled behind her mask before whipping around to her partner. "What's with you?" she snapped. "This is the kind of case you love." 

You weren't supposed to love homicide cases—they were all terrible—but it was hard not to develop a morbid appreciation for the weirder ones that kept work interesting. And you didn't get a death much weirder than this.

Lucifer picked at a woolen kneecap. "It's the _establishment_ , Detective."

"Seriously?" She snickered. "Oh, come on, it won't be that bad. Anyway, our vic died, like"—she lowered her voice—" _balls deep_ in Chuck E. Cheese." She leaned back in her chair, pleased with her own humor and awaiting his laughter.

"Be that as it may," Lucifer said, his tone grave and not the least bit amused, "I'd rather not go fishing about the pit for clues." He gave a full-body shudder. "You've no idea what people get up to in such places."

"I have some idea." Chloe stood and stuffed her cell phone into her back pocket. "One of Trixie's friends had a party at a kids restaurant a few years ago, and the birthday boy peed in the ball pit. It's totally gross."

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his masked nose. "I'm begging you not to tell me any more."

"All I'm saying is there's a reason I never let Trixie play in them." She shrugged. "So, you ready to head over there?"

He stared at her. "Um, _no_ ," he said tartly. 

"What?" She frowned. "But I was gonna let you drive."

Tugging on his lapels, he stood and shook his head at her. "You know, I think Daniel might need my help today. So, best of luck with the case, Detective." He gave her shoulder a friendly punch. "The lieutenant's right, of course. You've got this."

With that, he turned on his designer heel and took long strides away from her. Chloe watched him leave in search of Dan, who had only recently recovered from his own existential crisis. She sighed. She was in love with Lucifer, but she'd probably never understand him.

* * *

Lexy leaned on the warm exterior of Chuck E. Cheese and squinted against the noonday sun. Yellow crime scene tape, cop cars, and other emergency vehicles fenced the perimeter of the business property, occasionally drawing rubbernecked onlookers. Officers and techs wandered in and out of the restaurant, notebooks, cameras, and evidence bags in hand. She hated the memories it brought to the surface of her mind.

After the first cops on the scene had taken her statement, she'd been asked to stick around until a detective arrived. And so she stood outside in her blue sundress, breathing deeply through her nose and out her mouth, so that it puffed the mask on her face.

Some time later, a short, black-haired Latina woman exited the building and stood several feet away. "Hey, Lexy, right? I'm Ella Lopez. I work in forensics." She pinched the edge of her navy work jacket and gave it a shake. "Just wanted to check on you—you know, see if you wanted any water or anything. I feel bad leaving you out here. It's real hot and smoky." She laughed. "Weird silver lining to the plague masks, though, huh?"

"Yeah." Lexy adjusted hers with a grimace. She was tired of wearing it. "And thanks, but I'm okay."

"You sure? It can be pretty crazy seeing a body when you're not used to it. And the _smell_ —"

"Just why'd it have to be _here_?"

"Yeah. _Yeah_." Ella's eyes rounded above the line of her face mask. "Like, I'm not really supposed to talk to you about it, but... _I know_. Way to harsh people's mellow, am I right? I loved this place when I was a kid. I mean, not _this_ place. I grew up in Detroit, and I only got to go to Chuck E. Cheese, like, once, and that might have been a knock-off? Anyway. Good times for seven-year-old Ella. Too bad about it closing, huh? Lotsa kids are gonna miss it."

Lexy pushed away from the building. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, man, you didn't hear? The company that owns the franchise is in trouble. They're shutting down a bunch of these places—this one, too. There's a notice on the door about it." Ella shook her head and lamented, "Just another casualty of covid-19." Her hand flitted up, down, and left-to-right in a sign of the cross.

"This Chuck E. Cheese is closing?" Lexy whispered, and gazed up at the happy illustration of Chuck above the main door.

"Hey, Lopez!" shouted a man inside the restaurant. "Can you get an extra shot from this angle?"

"Sorry, gotta go," Ella said. "Just poke your head in if you need anything! Oh!" She pointed to the cluster of cop cars, where a black sedan was in the process of parking. "There's Detective Decker. You'll be out of here in no time, I bet. Nice chatting!"

For a moment after the bubbly scientist left, Lexy couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening. They wouldn't _really_ close Chuck E. Cheese, would they? Not this one... Ignoring the hubbub within the restaurant, she reluctantly turned toward the open doors and eyed the pinned notice Ella had mentioned. It was a short letter from the CEO, thanking parents and kids for many joyful birthdays. _Remember_ , the letter closed, _play is an important part of every day!_

"Excuse me, Ms. Hopper?" a woman spoke behind her. "I'm Detective Decker."

Lexy turned from the door in a daze. She could barely see the detective through the tears that had gathered at her eyes. "That's me," she choked out.

"Oh. Are you okay?" Detective Decker asked, brows furrowing. "I'm sorry. I was told you didn't know the victim."

"I don't," Lexy sobbed. Bowing her head, she tore off her mask and used the designer cloth to wipe her nose and eyes. She sniffed and frowned as she looked at the detective more closely. "Have we met before?" 

"No, I don't think so," the other woman replied, taking a few steps back.

"Maybe the universe brought us together." Lexy gave a watery smile.

The detective narrowed her eyes and looked Lexy up and down. Leaning in, she spoke in a whisper, "Are you...saying God sent you?" She backed away again, her focus darting toward the other officers on the scene.

Lexy shrugged. "There's no way to know for sure, is there?" 

"I— Right... No. Of course not." She breathed a laugh and raked back wavy, brown hair. "Goes with the whole _mysterious ways_ thing, right? Which I just _loved_ , by the way. Totally didn't stress me out at all."

"Huh?"

"Never mind." Detective Decker waved a hand. "I'm sorry. Let's just... Do you need a moment?"

"I just can't believe it's closing."

"What is?" 

"Chuck E. Cheese," Lexy sighed. "They're shutting down because of the virus."

" _Oh_. Interesting." Detective Decker looked at her thoughtfully as she lifted a pen and notepad in her hands. "And what's your relationship with Chu—to this business?"

The detective's questions were _exhausting_ and more than once brought Lexy to tears, which was how Detective Decker came to be holding a box of tissues in one hand and a supply of masks in the other while she recorded the interview. Lexy didn't know why the whole mask thing was such a big deal. They were _outdoors_.

"Okay, I think that's enough," the detective declared some time later. "Thanks for your cooperation. I know it wasn't easy, what with your...connection to this place. I'm sorry your sister won't get to say, um, goodbye to it since she's traveling?" 

"Yeah...we had a lot of nice memories here." Lexy sniffed. "I mean, I have other nice memories of Chuck E. Cheese, too, though," she added, while lovingly brushing a hand down the building's stucco. "Like, I had the best night of my life here."

Detective Decker dropped her box of tissues. "I'm sorry," she blurted, bending to collect it, "did you just say you had the best night of your life, _here_? At Chuck E. Cheese?"

"Yeah," Lexy said, somewhat dreamily. She frowned when she noticed the expression on the other woman's face. Lips pursed, Detective Decker looked like she'd eaten something very sour. "You know, I sense your heart chakra is out of alignment today, too, Detective Decker." 

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, something like that, sure. You know," the detective said, shifting the masks to her other hand and brushing roughly at her bangs, "I think I may actually have a few more questions for you yet." She nodded while chewing on her lip. "Think you could come down to the station tomorrow morning, by any chance?"

"Am I in trouble?" asked Lexy. "I swear I've never seen that man before today. I'm awful with names, but I always remember a face. Not that I saw his face! At first. Until you guys pulled him out of the ball pit." 

"Right, I understand, and no, you're not in trouble. I just want to talk to you some more about the, um, time you've spent here. At Chuck E. Cheese. Could help me"—she waved her handful of masks around—"you know, understand the victim better."

This woman was so weird, and Lexy was still convinced they'd met before. She shrugged. "Sure. I'll help any way I can, detective."

"That's great! Thank you. So I guess we'll see you tomorrow then." Detective Decker stretched out an arm, thrusting a surgical mask between them. "Oh, and I know it's inconvenient, but please wear a mask. It's actually the law."

* * *

Every time Chloe tried to study the strangulation marks on the victim's neck, her eyes caught sight of a new horror. Barrel of Monkeys. Dog Pounder. Spider Stompin'. The thought of Lucifer, _her_ Lucifer, spending time with Lexy— _in_ Lexy—amid the arcade games, sticky tables, and, dear God, _the ball pit_ , well... It wasn't all that surprising, was it? She wasn't jealous, either, though it was frankly a little stunning that there was only one degree of separation between her lady parts and Lexy Hopper's. 

In hindsight, this had been inevitable. If nuns were at one end of the spectrum, Lucifer Morningstar was at the other, and he'd spent a good seven years plowing his way through L.A.'s rich, famous, and remotely attractive. It wasn't as if she hadn't sat across from dozens of his lovers as they'd regaled her on his outrageous sexcapades. And it wasn't as if she and Lucifer were totally vanilla, either.

But Chuck E. Cheese... _Really_?

She was never, ever, going to let him live this down. His aversion to the place made so much sense now, in the worst way possible. Even the Devil felt some shame about this one.

"Hey, so," Ella began, squatting beside her next to the body, "we found this bit of—"

But Chloe barely heard her as she got stuck staring at the large evidence bags filled with colorful plastic balls from the now empty ball pit. He'd had sex in the ball pit, hadn't he? He'd _totally_ had sex in the ball pit.

By late afternoon, she returned to the precinct and began making calls to schedule interviews. Lucifer was nowhere to be seen, and she let out a relieved breath in his absence. She wasn't sure she could keep a straight face around him right now, which wouldn't do any good for the plan she'd begun to form at the crime scene. Still, by the end of her shift, she found herself looking for him when he hadn't turned up to distract her.

"Hey, Dan," she called, coming to stand beside his desk, "did Lucifer go home already?"

"What do you think?" He gave her a wry look above the line of his face mask. "I've got a stack of paperwork," he said, laying a palm flat on the pile, "and he only does paperwork for you, Chlo."

"Okay, yeah, that's probably true." And probably shouldn't endear her so much.

"He spent five minutes with me, made fun of my new shirt, and left." 

Dropping his chin, Dan looked at the button-down in question. It was possibly the most flamboyant clothing Chloe had ever seen her ex-husband wear, outside of Hawaiian shirts when on vacation. Black, cream, and bright green palm leaves twisted and turned in an entwining pattern beneath his black leather jacket. 

"You do kinda look like you've come from _Miami Vice_."

Dan dropped his pen to his desk. "That's what he said! Does it really look that bad?"

"No." Maybe a little. "It's just...is it really you?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "I guess I'm still trying to find myself after this year, you know?" 

He glanced at the framed picture of Charlotte, and then at the wall beside his desk with its collection of positive cliches. _Don't forget to smile!_ _Believe in yourself!_ _Your only limit is you!_ Chloe stared at Dan sadly. The dark circles were back beneath his eyes, and he looked older than she had ever seen him. They'd had their differences over the years—many, which was why they were divorced—but he needed some good in his life. He couldn't keep forcing happiness like this.

Chloe rested a hand on his shoulder. "It's been a hard year."

"Understatement." 

"Kinda. And what we've been through is more than I think we—you know, as humans—were ever meant to go through."

" _Yeah_ ," he puffed out, and slumped tiredly in his chair. "Just nothing feels right anymore. It's like every day I'm weighed down by all this baggage, and I need something to reset me. But instead I bought...a bargain bin shirt and a ukulele." He shrugged sheepishly when he realized how much he was divulging. "Sorry. I know it's been a hard couple of years for you, too."

"I'm managing," she said, attempting to be charitable when the truth was she was quite happy, enough so to feel guilty about it in the year 2020. "Just don't be too hard on yourself, okay?" She pointed to his wall of inspiration. "Not being able to do all this stuff every day doesn't make you a failure."

Dan's eyes were soft as he looked up at her from his office chair. "Thanks, Chloe."

"Sure thing. Anyway, I'm heading out. Don't forget—"

"About setting up Trixie's remote learning stuff. I know. I've got it."

Smiling, she gathered her things and fled the precinct. These days, she almost always left on time. There was something, or rather someone, to leave for. Sometimes she felt guilty about that—hadn't Trixie been enough? But the truth was leaving one responsibility for another, even a daughter whom she loved dearly, had weighed on her. She understood Dan's predicament all too well. Life was punishing when there was too much obligation and not enough joy.

Lux was eerily quiet as she turned into its garage a half hour later. Gone were the long lines, bumping music, and inebriated partygoers. It had taken some prodding from the Devil's girlfriend, but the bar was closed for business during the pandemic, as per L.A. County law. Lucifer could afford the shutdown. Anyway, what was one more year of operating at a supposed loss?

She found him in the bar, nonetheless, sitting at his piano, suit jacket tossed aside, fingers dancing across the keys. For a while, she stood back and listened, enjoying the way his shoulders and torso shifted, as if his entire being were part of the music. There was a peace about him when he was like this, one that felt, and was, older than almost anything else—felt _angelic_ , even. It was a funny thing to reconcile in a blasphemous man who could rarely sit still, much less a man who had screwed a yoga teacher in a greasy kids restaurant. 

"It's just me," Chloe called, and descended the stairs into the bar. 

The music broke off as Lucifer turned with a bright smile. "Hello, darling."

"Thought you'd be upstairs."

He opened an arm for her as she slid onto the piano bench. "Needed a change of scenery," he explained, drawing her close and kissing the top of her head. He smelled of vanilla and tobacco. "Going a bit stir crazy. The last time Earth was this boring—well, there was a plague, come to think of it."

"Yikes."

"Yes, the Black Death was a bit of a downer. Far superior masks, though."

"Hmm, you could have joined me on the case today." He scoffed, and she grinned, feeling sneaky. "What? It _definitely_ wasn't boring."

"Oh?" he asked absently, fingers already slyly crawling beneath the hem of her shirt. "Did you find the killer? Don't tell me Chuck did it."

"No killer yet, but I have a few leads." She tugged at one of his shirt buttons and tilted her head back as he kissed along her neck. "Did you know it's closing? A bunch of them are. Might be the motive for someone. Vic was the former manager. Guy in his thirties."

"Really?" He pulled back slightly, one hand pressed to her bare back. "That's _marvelous_ news. About pizza rat's restaurant closing, not the poor chap who died."

Chloe held back a laugh as she pulled his shirt free from his dress pants. "So you gonna help me with questioning tomorrow?" she asked, laying her trap. "Think I could have really used your insight today." 

"Well, I promise you've my undivided attention now." His eyes crinkled at their corners as she felt the band of her bra loosen.

"But you'll help me tomorrow?" she pressed. "In the morning?" 

"So long as it's at the precinct."

"Oh, it is. It's just I have this one lady to question that I—"

"Bloody hell," Lucifer laughed. With an exaggerated sigh, he pulled away from her and stood. " _Enough_ , Detective," he implored, offering his hand. "You seem to have forgotten you're off the clock."

* * *

Later, Chloe stretched her toes, luxuriating in Lucifer's soft sheets while she watched him eat from a strand of red grapes, looking every part the sated hedonist. Plucking a blueberry from the plate between them, she considered the time she had spent fearing a relationship with the Devil and how, in retrospect, it was only time wasted. Being with Lucifer was one of the easiest things she'd ever done—well, emotionally, not really practically. She loved him, deep in her bones, and knew his affection was just as intense. There was security in that, and freedom, too.

Which was exactly why she was going to torture him a little.

"So with your mojo," she said, "and the whole desire thing, has there ever been anything you _wouldn't_ do for people?"

Dark eyes looked at her askance. "Are we speaking generally or sexually?"

"I'm talking sex." 

"I do love when you do that." His grin was wolfish. "And, to answer your question, yes, certainly. The Devil doesn't—or rather _didn't_ —do everyone or everything." He said nothing else as he popped another grape into his mouth.

Snickering, she poked his ribs. "You have to give me more than that."

"Oh, I _have_ to, do I?" he teased, rolling onto his side to face her. "Give me a few more minutes, and I can give you a whole lot more." She rolled her eyes, and he dropped the naked grape stem to the plate. His smile was gentle and happy in the flattering, yellow glow of his penthouse bedroom. "Really, though, why the sudden curiosity? Some little desire you've not told me about?"

Chloe hummed in thought. "Not really. I just want to know more about you." Which was true. It just wasn't the overarching truth right now. Besides, she was pretty sure nothing he could tell her could possibly top discovering he'd had sex in a Chuck E. Cheese with a woman who seemed short several marbles.

"Well, in that case, there are quite a few fetishes that are not to my personal tastes," Lucifer answered. "Eproctophilia and melissaphilia among them." He glanced at her in concern. "I hope you're not into either."

"I don't even know what those are."

"Let's just say humans can get off to anything. Evolution does funny things to your brains. I mean, look at you," he teased, touching her nose. "You're a stygiophile."

She snorted at his haughty tone. "A what?"

Lucifer smirked. "Look it up sometime, Detective."

"Whatever. So what happened when people wanted things like that?"

"Well, I'd find someone else who could flick their switch, wouldn't I?"

"But you'd try or do most things, right?" she pressed.

"I...yes? Usually. At least once." He cocked his head. "You're certain this isn't about you?"

"Just curious." Picking up the plate, she set it on a nightstand before throwing a leg over his hips and straddling him. She smiled as she felt him harden between her legs. His eyes dipped to her bare breasts before returning to her face. "Maybe I _am_ wondering if you'd have sex with me anywhere I wanted..."

Long fingers curled around her hips. "Oh, Detective, do you not know me at all?" Sliding his hands up he pulled her down for a kiss. She cupped his face, smiling. "Say the word, and I'll take you however and wherever you please."

"You know," Chloe chuckled against his lips, "I think I'm starting to believe you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is a known fact that when you love someone very much, you have to troll them sometimes.
> 
> * * *
> 
> [Fic Recs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_dolly/bookmarks) • [My Fics, Categorized](https://matchstickdolly.tumblr.com/lucifer-fanfics-by-matchstickdolly) • [My Fanvids on YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpFt_dvJXpicQkuPOCDEvhg/videos) • [Tumblr](https://matchstickdolly.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] All You Can Play](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22832953) by [Liannabob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liannabob/pseuds/Liannabob)
  * [What Strange Colors in the Void](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23236231) by [ObliObla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla)




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